Page 24 of Sparrow

I tip my head and stare at that one shoe in the hallway, wondering. What sort of person takes their shoes off so quickly that he forgets one outside of the room, and then leaves it still sitting there when he gets up in the morning?

What sort of man has a stack of books against the wall in the hallway?

I breathe out slowly... and then yank myself back into the real world and turn toward the front door. It doesn’t matter what sort of man does any of that.

Orion made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with me, and I’m planning to leave at the first opportunity. I might never see Orion again. I have exactly zero reason to wonder what sort of man he is.

But as I walk out the front door and turn right, toward the garage, I remember the flash of curiosity in those dark eyes of his. The humor twisting his mouth as he teased Mars.

The feeling of danger rolling off him.

And the way my own heart answered that danger.

I’m at the mouth of the garage by the time I complete the thought, and walk right into the very men I’ve been thinking about. And a very obvious argument.

Mars is backed up against the wall, scowling stubbornly, and Orion stands in front of him gesturing like he’s saying something vital. They’re both growling intensely, neither of them giving up an inch, and for a moment I want to turn and run away, embarrassed and horrified that I’ve interrupted something so private that they’re actually fighting about it.

Then they fall silent with a sort of thick, sticky intensity, and it’s too late for me to turn and run. Because they’re both turning to look at me.

Orion’s face is flushed with emotion, Mars more pale than anything else, and they both look both angry and resigned, like they both know they’re not going to win this argument and are facing an unsolvable situation. Orion stares at me, his dark eyes sparking and his mouth pursed like he wants to say something and won’t, and I’m reminded of some sort of wild animal. Something dark and terrifying that look at you from the shadows, its body crouched like it might spring at any moment.

I wonder what it would be like for him to spring at me. What he’d feel like if he got too close.

Smell like.

Taste like.

His glance flicks up and down my body like he’s wondering the same thing, and I’m struck by the thought that this man could eat me alive and I wouldn’t even see it coming.

Then he shakes his head firmly, spins, and stalks out of the garage without a second glance.

When I turn to look at Mars I catch him staring at me as well, the giant, golden lion of a man appearing lost and unsure of himself. It’s so unlike the man I’ve always known that I stare back, the edges of the world blurring as the moment stretches. His eyes are shockingly blue, I see. Even bluer than I’ve ever thought. And they glow as if they’re lit from within.

Like he does have a fire burning inside him, the way he always seems to.

My breath catches in my lungs, but before I can say anything he’s turning slowly away, his eyes lingering on mine like he can’t stand to let me go. But moments later he disappears into the garage and I’m left alone on the sidewalk with one clear thought.

These two are best friends, and they’re out here first thing in the morning having an argument. Because of me. Because I’m here and already causing problems. I came down here to talk to Mars about leaving, and to see if he could give me a ride. Instead, they both took one look at me and ran.

And this brings my earlier thought home with such force that I can’t look away from it.

I don’t belong here. I’m causing problems, and I need to leave before I make it any worse. I need to get out of here and let Mars and Orion go back to their lives before I screw anything else up–or worse, put them in danger.

I turn back toward the house. We crossed train tracks last night on the way into town, and surely that means there’s a train station here. I don’t have any money, but I do still have one of my credit cards, kept in my bra over the months to hide it from the men who took me.

If I can get to the station, I can find my own way home.

And Mars and Orion can go back to the life they were living before they accidentally played hero and won a problem they didn’t want.

Mars

The garage is humming with energy, my mechanics swarming through the space like ants.

Ants in jeans and t-shirts, boots on their feet and cartons of cigarettes rolled up in their sleeves like they’re greasers straight out of the 50s.

I smile at that thought and catalogue them as I look around. Dutch, my official vice president, is in charge of the restoration we’re doing on the 48 Chevy, and is currently under the hood, fixing something he inevitably thinks I did wrong last night. I notice he’s got gloves on, though, to protect Orion’s precious paint job, and chuckle.

I never would have expected Dutch to take something like that under consideration, but the last time Orion saw someone running their fingers along that paint, he lost his head. Guess Dutch is avoiding the drama.